Memories On the Cutting Room Floor
by Mistress of the Midnight Darkness
Summary: Roger is having flashbacks of things that happened to him in the past. R&R!


'Ello, Everyone!

This is my first RENT fic. Ever. Well, first Rent fic I've posted.

It's kind of a trial and error thing. The reviews will be appreciated, flames 'n all.

Oh, and this first chapter is something Laina and I noticed in the movie. when Collins comes in Roger flinches. As if he doesn't want Collins to come back. I could be wrong, but as I said, this is all trial and error.

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Information:

Story title: Cutting Room Floor of Memories

Rating: Teen. Possibly will be moved up to Mature.

Summary: Roger has flashbacks from some things that happened to him in the past.

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Disclaimer:

I don't own RENT.

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"What's up, my bitches?" Tom Collins asked, grinning widely. In his hands he gripped a brown paper bag.

Roger Davis flinched. _Not you again..._ he thought. His thoughts raced away from the conversation. Back to a certain night last year. One Roger wanted to forget...

_ "C'mon, Roger! It will be fun!" Collins said, trying to coax Roger._

_ "No, Collins. I'm not having sex with you! Now go away!" Roger yelled for the hundredth time that night. He proceeded to slam the door in Collin's face. "Take that bitch." He mumbled to himself as he collapsed onto his bed. He felt like playing his fender. _

_ The thought didn't last long before he put it into action. He reached for the worn, black leather case and opened it. He stared fondly at his guitar. It had been there through everything. High school, his band, April, the smack, the long and tiresome process of coming clean, everything. The one thing that never left him. The one thing he could depend on to always be there when he needed it the most._

_ He picked it up gently and played a few chords. Before even thinking about it, he started into a song. _

_ The at first peaceful tune turned into an angsty, loud, hard song that he used to express the anger he felt towards Collins. It made him feel better about Collins being such an asshole. _

_ Music was a way to get away from everything that was wrong. Or simply describe how he was feeling. He loved it. He loved to lock himself in his room and write new songs and play random chords. He loved the feeling of it._

_ After playing the same song repeatedly for about ten minutes, he stopped and relaxed on his bed, his guitar still in his right hand._

_ A soft knock at the door stirred him. _

_ "Roger, it's me, Collins. Let me in, please. I'm really sorry about all of this. I...I wanna make it up to you. I have beer," Collins was saying to the door. Beer. Roger could practically taste it now. He hadn't gotten beer since his band broke up. Maybe he could forgive Collins... just for the beer, of course. Alchohol is a very persuading drink._

_ Roger got up and let the guilty-looking Collins in. Collins handed Roger the beer. _

_ "Enjoy," he said simply. _

_ "Oh I will!" Roger replied, guzzling down on bottle after another. Collins smirked and sipped his one beer slowly, savoring every last drop. _

_ Finally, all of the beer was gone and Roger was completely wasted. Collins though, was perfectly fine._

_ "Did you enjoy the beer, Rog?" Collins asked, smiling hopefully. Roger nodded._

_ "Thatwasthebestbeerever," he slurred. It sounded like one word, but Collins smirked knowingly. He was going to get Roger..._

_ "I bet. It was expensive, too," Collins commented, trying to keep the conversation alive. Just a few more minutes..._

_ "Really? It tasted goodddd." Roger slurred again. Collins nodded. "So, feel like doing something fun, now?"_

_ Roger perked up suddenly. "Hell yah!"_

_ Collins smirked. _Perfect._ he thought. "C'mere and sit down."_

_ Roger obeyed. Collins gently pulled Roger's shirt off, and ran his tongue from Roger's naval to his lips. Roger moaned. Collins proceeded to take off Roger's pants..._

Roger snapped out of the memory. He didn't want to remember anymore. _Collins, you're such a bastard for raping me! _Roger thought angrily. _I wish I could kill you now. I hate you for what you did! You bastard! Do you know what you did to me, do you!_

Roger tried to calm down and listen to what Collins was saying. Roer forced an excited smile onto his face as he listened to the conversations.

"Yeah, fourteen hours later!" Mark was saying. The key. "What happened to you? Are you alright?" Mark asked, looking over the bruises all over Collins.

"I've never been better!" Collins smirked and proceeded to dump the contents of the brown bag onto the table.

"A Christmas feast!" Mark exclaimed, looking over the contents. Cafe Bustelo, fresh bananas, Captain Crunch, Marlboros, and Stoli. Roger grinned truthfully when he saw the stuff. He was starved and hadn't eaten in a day.

Collins dumped fire wood into Roger's arms, which Roger put into the illegal wood burning stove. Roger grumbled a bit, but couldn't object to the thought of heat.

"So," Roger started, trying to lighten his mood and take his thoughts away from what had happened last time Collins was down. "Did you strike gold at M.I.T.?"

Collins sighed. "No. The expelled me for my theory of actual reality, which I'll soon impart on the couch potatoes at the New York University."

"Then where did you get this stuff?" Mark asked, staring eagerly at the things before him. Collins stood up regally and began to make some sort of grand introduction.

"Gentlemen, our benefactor on this Christmas day, whose charity is only met by talent I must say. The newest member of the Alphabet City avant garde, Angel Dumott Schunard!"

Then, a man came in dressed in a Santa Claus drag outfit, a fan of twenty dollar bills in each hand. Roger glanced at Mark and tried not to burst out laughing. _This is Collins new friend. A drag queen. It figures... _Roger thought.

"Today for you, tommorrow for me!" He squealed. Roger laughing quietly, _Oh wow..._

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Any thoughts?

If so, hit the blue button and tell me what you think.

As I said, this is my first fic, and I know it isn't too good. In fact, it sucks.Sorry.

Ginny

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